Undead Artists
by xxDropdeadxx
Summary: A continuum of the vampire story of when a girl is changed from a human, she learns the things she loses, and gains, beyond her knowledge or not.


I sat while Ambrose fiddled with his tie, stripping it from his neck and tossing the strip of silk aside onto the bed. I had my legs crossed, scanning through a magazine of French fashions. I thought of what Kashia and the others spoke of, her being his favorite, me being the new little show piece. I wasn't sure what to think at that moment, as much as I was flattered by the thought of him going out of his way to see that I was well known and respected, I would much rather have had him fussing over Kashia than me. Obviously she was more accustomed to being lathered with attention and smothering. Ambrose was kicking off his far too expensive shoes when I looked up at him for a mere second, which also reminded me of the small kiss he gave me, there was a dominant sort of force to it that made it like a muzzle of a dog. I shuddered a bit, I felt so odd thinking of it that way. "Sometime I need to make it over to France." I tried to make conversation. He nodded slowly, observing what I was reading a bit intrigued. "It really is a place of true art." He assured me, letting his cotton shirt fall off his body and onto the floor. "Be more neat, and pick up your clothes" I nagged him, before continuing on about France. "I just remember my mother talking about it so dearly, and the Louvre doesn't hurt to see." I shrugged, not sure what made me really say that, but it felt right. "Art des morts-vivants" his words sounded from the bathroom as he rummaged through a drawer or two. It took me a moment, before I admitted "What does that mean?" I asked shyly.

He came back out of the bathroom , his suit pants changed to smooth pajama pants. "Art of the undead." Ambrose explained, shutting the curtains as the sun rose slowly. I thought of those words, like a long ago forgotten chant, that sounded so faintly familiar. "I do not understand." I replied, setting the magazine down to look up at him, he turned his head slightly "Some of the greatest artists, lived on in their art, and some, lived on forever." Ambrose slipped onto his bed, the curtains and sheets matched nicely, very bachelor pad. "So like,..they were vampires too?" I asked, baffled by this new discovery, it all made so much sense that talent came from those who had inspiration from ages of life. "Precisely." He yawned, moving his hand to pat the spot next to him. I hesitated a bit, ever since the change Ambrose had left me to wander about the city which I admit was shocking considering the common behavior of new breeds, but now he and I found ourselves spending more time together, whether it was speaking of undead artists or just feeding, but we never slept together. I was like his little pet now, so I walked over to the bed and slipped under the sheets feeling a bit of that deep exhaustion kicking in. That was another thing that drove me mad about being immortal, when you thirsted, you thirsted like you never did when you were alive, when you were tired your limbs dragged you down like stone until you were practically forced into a deep sleep.

I felt nervous, as the candles flickered around his room softly, like fireflies in the night sky. Our eyes avoided to meet, I didn't want to make it awkward but I kept thinking of Kashia and the people at the bar, and what they all thought of us, owner and pet. "Was Davinci a vampire?" I asked curiously, finally peering into his eyes. He laughed a little, shaking his head gently. "But Micheal Angelo was, his religious pieces all sort of a mirroring of the thing that damns us creatures." He explained, his pale arm propping his head up casually. I nodded, soaking up the information like a sponge. "There is so much you do not know until you cross the edge of humanity and eternity." He said quietly, his voice pulling my attention in even more. Absentmindedly I scooted closer, as much as I hated to admit it, my pure hatred for him had faded into a bit of a competing awareness of his wisdom, I wanted to learn from him and hopefully graduate from this hell.

Soon, I was asleep next to him as the sun rose. The house was so dark, but this was on purpose of course seeing as vampires weren't light's biggest fans. But the darkness was a bit of a problem as I awoke, my vision still thrown off a bit but getting better as the change perfected my range and far sightedness problems. So reluctantly I grabbed a candle as I awoke, slowly feeling my way down the hall. Wax dripped down the candle as I walked down the stairs until I pushed on a door of what I assumed was the kitchen, I needed blood, the thirst clawed at my throat and stomach like the flame of the candle. I smiled seeing the freezer, packets of blood welcoming me for a snack.

Blood dripped down my throat, the microwave door still open from when I snatched it open like a child grabbing candy. I smiled, a small droplet slipping down my lip, I was enjoying the taste so much I froze when I heard a clambering and crashing, then a skidding. The house was huge, beyond big enough to hide in and maybe steal things from a different room, but I never thought it would actually happen. Before I could think my instincts kicked in, my face snarled into a hissing mangle of fangs, I charged right into the small pantry room, my eyes bright and bloodshot. The smell of humanity fled my nose, and I looked down, a small girl was hiding, her eyes closed, tears streaming down her face like a waterfall. "Who are you?" I asked, the blood still on my face.

"…..your daughter.."


End file.
